Rediscovered Fate
by TeenWriterGirl
Summary: In a new UsUk story, New Year's Eve proves to show that anything is possible.


My eyes cast a cerulean glow on the heavily polished counter, to a point of near reflection. The bartender with the leathery face only laughs—probably due to the pint of ale he just consumed with the hour. I try to smile good-naturedly—after all, it's New Year's Eve. It's the evening of letting go of the past, making plans for the future...

But heck, I don't need any of that. I have my future planned out to a tee: domination. Sure, it sounds vague, but I have a very gifted skill of accomplishing what I set my mind to. It's one of the things that adds to my charisma, the reason everyone wants to be around me. I'm only kidding, of course. Not about the domination part, but the friends. Don't get me wrong, there are _a lot _of people I'm tight with. Including the one I was meeting at the pub tonight. Yes, he's a friend. Right? A very good friend. A very good one indeed...

Whipping my mind out of the suggestive thoughts creeping into my mind, I glanced at the large grandfather clock in the corner. It rang out 11:30 PM, on the dot. So much for meeting me here at 10:45 sharp, especially for a gentleman such as himself. Where was he? Had he pulled a ruse on me again? It wouldn't be the first time. Maybe it was still his sickening pleasure in seeing me suffer at the thought that we still had a good relationship. Telling us to meet up somewhere, but then leaving me alone... as if that was an eternal reminder that it would be what I would be forever.

He wasn't my older brother anymore, that was for sure. Arthur Kirkland, the gentleman of the men there ever were, had no familial ties to me. I had no qualms openly admitting that, but that didn't mean that I didn't want to still him. Every time I walked into my home, everyone haunts me of him, from his voice, to his touch, to even his smell. There are days where I miss him so badly that I just lay under my thin covers, not wanting to eat, drink, or even get up. There are days I long to hand everything over to him, to tell him that I want him more than I want myself. But there's no place in history for the "strong one" such as myself to do this. Ever since those war days of long ago, I've been on my own.

So why was I sitting in a late night pub, watching drunken couples laughing at each other, so passionately in love that they didn't care who judged? Why was I sipping a mug of Guiness, waiting in hope for a man who would probably never darken the door? I would have been better off sitting in front of the TV, watching pointless crap, instead of wishing for the impossible. As the clock ticked to 11:35, then 11:45, I tightened the collar on my jacket, and reached in my pocket for my wallet, to pay for my bill. Fumbling around, I felt my heart drop to my stomach.

I had left it at home. The bartender glanced my way, with slight suspicion growing behind his glazed eyes. I gave him a nonchalant grin, while panic thudded in my chest. _Come on, dude! _I told myself. _You're Alfred Jones. You win everything, you beat everything, and you... you... _My thoughts fizzled into dizzy torrents, dissipating from my normally superior logic. Biting my lip, I shifted my weight on the stool, praying that I might be able to make a quick escape after midnight, and then leave an anonymous payment later in the week. Yeah, that could work. It would most definitely work—

"You're not planning on stealing _another _Guiness, are you now?" A familiar voice played behind my ears. In complete shock, Arthur Kirkland stood before me, his arm leaning gently on the counter. As usual, his vibrant green eyes seemed to see straight into my mind—my soul, practically. My heart began to prance erratically as he took the seat next to me. With a calm smile at the bartender, he lay down just enough money for the tab. The bartender grunted and gave a toothless grin, shovelling the bills and coins into his apron pocket. As he sauntered off, Arthur turned to face me.

"Hey, thanks..." I stammered, unsure of what exactly to say. Arthur rested his hand delicately on my shoulder, which felt much more potent than it was meant to be.

"You haven't changed at all," He chuckled, his firm gaze never leaving mine. Our voices faded away—no, everything faded away—in that moment. I was certain that the New Year had already arrived until another partier hollered the five minute mark. Both of our eyes drifted to the TV set up in the corner, with the numerous couples snuggling up together by the nearby hearth. It appeared that we were the only two not joining the rest of the crowd.

"I'm quite sorry," Arthur apologized mildly, "for being so tardy. I'm afraid that there was a minor crises in Scotland that I had to oversee to its conclusion. I meant to get over here much earlier, I really did." He sighed in spite of himself, his words floating away.

"Hey man, it's okay," I reassured, "I mean, you're here now, right? I just... well... never mind." Arthur gave me a knowing glance, the kind he'd given me years before, ordering me to spill my mind to him. It nearly always worked, even when I was a young adult as I was.

"What is it?" He inquired quietly, his words thin and crisp. I gulped against the lump that coming up my throat.

"It's just... with everything going on..." I was interrupted by the countdown. Thirty seconds. Twenty seconds. And then the ten second mark. Avoiding the loud chanters, I shot Arthur an uneasy glance. At seven seconds, he slid out of his seat. At five, he was right in front of me. At three, his arm was around my neck. At zero, his lips were crushed against mine, warm and soft.

My eyes widened in surprise, but soon closed. For those first moments of the New Year, I remember nothing, except a golden fire surging within lips, setting ablaze every inch of my body. As my arms wrapped around his neck, I could hear a slight moan escape his lips. The pure glory I felt was indescribable, almost like one of those bright white lights that you don't remember the looks of, but you remember the jubilance that came with it. And then, without warning, it was over.

His green eyes were shining like polished jade, with his thick eyebrows gently arching above them, and his mouth was frozen in a warm smile, the kind that welcomes you in after a cold day. The tears soon fell, and I collapsed against his chest, sobbing helplessly, just like I had so long ago. Gently, he led me outside of the pub, where we both sat down a grassy patch. He caressed the back of my head, and held me close. I remember the dynamics of that moment too—I hadn't felt that safety in such a long time... not since the war, long, long ago.

The midnight stars blinked their greetings in the night sky, and a crescent moon waved hello to the new year we were beginning.

"Alfred," He whispered softly, just above the proddings of the gentle breeze. "I love you." My heart stopped in my chest, but so did my tears. Regaining my composure, I stared straight into his eyes.

"I love you, too." I murmured, never wanting the evening to end. Our gazes both returned to the sky, before Arthur broke the silence once more.

"Oh, and Alfred? Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Arthur."


End file.
